the SOUL 。
by Encore19
Summary: What if the Souls hadn't forced an invasion on humankind? What if they'd instead agreed to work alongside humans and guide them into the next stage of evolution and enlightenment? Peter finds it difficult to trust the benevolent aliens. Even more so when they insert a Soul into his unrequited love. Mathew was trouble and never could've loved, but could White Fierce? SLASH m/m
1. the GENTLE INVASION

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\- 。O 。O 。O 。- **the SOUL** \- 。 O 。O 。O 。 -

* * *

\- O - **Chapter 1** \- O -

。 **Peter Purcell** 。

* * *

I never really felt bad about it. Back then. I never got my hopes up, it didn't ever occur to me that we could be together. He was merely an interest, a fascination. Something to sate the boredom of my terribly monotonous teenage years. I always studied him from a distance, always starstruck and internally agape, like he was some sort of rare bird. Other people noticed him too, a wandering appreciative look and then their gaze moved away.

My gaze didn't move away. It was like I never could see enough of him, he'd captured my interest and looking at him never got boring.

Each flash of emotion, tick of his personality, was magnetising. I'd studied him so much that I felt I could see his very soul, and that too was beautiful. It was completely illogical and impossible to love someone so much, someone I'd never spoken to. Crazy, even. It didn't make sense. But like I said, my feelings for him never made me feel bad. It was because of him that I didn't suicide just from how purely mundane my existence was for so many years. I just never got my hopes up with him.

But now it hurt. It hurt so badly – it felt like my heart was tearing in two.

The classroom erupted into hissing whispers and excited murmurs. I'd already heard the rumours, they'd left me in a daze. But now I knew it was true. We'd received confirmation. Our balding roll call teacher told us with a serious expression. But his eyes were alight, after all this was good news right? Wrong. Everyone was completely enraptured in serious conversation except for me and the girl I sat next to. The chattering class didn't notice when I stood, I had to get out of here.

"Peter!" my friend Lorna called out in concern "Where are you going?"

"Toilet. Sick." I answered her in fragments. My teacher raised his eyebrows at me questioningly and I mumbled about needing to use the bathroom. He was too surprised to form a response in time. The green painted door swung open, bounced on its hinge and waned closed behind me. It still shined of its new coat, and I imagined the smell of it still lingered. Clawing up my nostrils and making my head swim, pricking my eyes.

Those fucking aliens. Those parasitic Souls. Fake, lying, passive demons. They killed him. They inserted one of their own kind into Mathew's body. It murdered him and is wearing his body and now he is gone. I don't care if they believed it was in his best interests. He deserved to be free, he deserved that. I'd see him again, but it wouldn't truly be _him_. The boy I loved is gone forever. I was sobbing before I'd even made it into the bathroom stall.

It was there, kneeling over the toilet while my chest heaved, feeling that my heart was literally breaking, that I had to go back in my mind and do some honest analysis. Only one decade has passed since the Souls made themselves known to humankind. Our way of life has drastically changed. Damage caused to the planet and its climate from centuries of industrial pollution has almost been entirely reversed. Corruption and violence that plagued mankind's history for millennia has been almost completely stamped out. Crime rates are microscopic, hunger and poverty has ceased, the world is now in a state of peace.

And a state of fear.

For almost twenty years the aliens have been aware of us, so they say. They watched from the safety of space, learning all they could and making plans. Then infestation began. The Souls exist by inhabiting other sentient lifeforms. They merge with another being, eradicate its consciousness, and the host's former personality and memories help make up the new being. The inserted Soul.

It has been admitted that while humans were still under observation a debate took place as to whether we should be guided and assisted, or completely invaded. The Souls are a benevolent and highly evolved species, so they say. The decision was made that humans were not entirely too far gone and could be pointed in the direction of higher evolution. Evolving until, eventually, we became just like the Souls. So they began by infesting prisons and asylums. And then communication began in secret with spiritual leaders, government officials and the world's greatest thinkers.

The Souls' existence was announced to the world ten years ago, and since then they have gradually infiltrated our societies. They work hand-in-hand with human authorities, gladly offering their technology, discoveries and wise council. Our planet is in the process of a rapid change. Vehicles run on clean energy and are made out of a brilliant shining metal not found here, newer and more efficient subways and monorails for public transport are under construction, diseases and even genetic disorders can be mended. Health will never be a problem.

And all they want to do is help. Nothing more. So they say.

With each passing month the power and influence of their species grows. Obviously more than a few paranoid individuals are sceptical about our new galactic neighbours that claim to _come in peace_. They said they didn't want to invade, but in their own slow and thorough way they have taken over. It still appears they're working _with_ human authorities but the unofficial assumption is that's not the case. Souls are apparently incapable of violence. They are a 'pure' species, so what better way to completely inhabit a new world than what they're doing now?

After all, it's in our own best interests.

I cried silently on my knees, lest anyone hear. The period ended, so did the next, and then it was recess. I waited out my burst of emotion and let the numbness take me. Then when I was relatively sure I didn't look like I'd been crying I walked out of the smelly stall and studied myself in the warped and stained mirror. My brown eyes were a bit too glassy, and there was redness around them. Still, no one would know I'd been crying unless they paid close attention.

My skin was faintly tanned, partly due to genetics and partly due to the Australian sun. My straight black hair was short, the back cut close to my neck while my fringe was longer. Brushed back like it usually was the front reached just above my eyes. When swept forward the left side reached my cheekbone. I was above average in height with a slim build that fit my stature. My body swayed on being fit, due to sports and healthy eating being an important value to my family. Not so much me. But a naturally high metabolism didn't hurt my physique either.

I glanced at my appearance after deducing my face was back to normal. Normal-ish. Then I turned for the exit with my head lowered, planning not to attract attention to myself. Once outside I saw fellow students talking in their social groups, not paying any attention to me. With my eyes on the ground faces were but a blur, it was only a sea of blue buttoned uniform tops with grey shorts and skirts. I got a few metres before someone jumped out in front of me. It was Lorna.

"We need to hang out. My place. After school." she was serious, all-business. Her eyebrows were raised, asking at any objections. I looked at her and wondered if she could tell I'd been crying. Lorna could be incredibly perceptive, but only when she chose to be, so usually she wasn't.

"Okay." I agreed and she gave half a nod, that knowing expression on her face as she continued off.

Taking empty steps towards the concrete quadrangle of Awaba High School I tried not to think about it. Him. I tried not to think about how intensely I'd fallen for him, literally love-at-first-sight, at only fourteen years old. When lining up for class I'd stared at him agape before getting control of myself several seconds later. Then inside I'd huddled into the corner of the room and ignored the teacher, in silent awe over what I'd discovered. Is this what love is? That thing everyone talks and sings songs about?

I was terrified of him. He'd haunt my dreams, but even then I couldn't face him. Even knowing I was in the safety of my head I turned tail and left. The years went by and thankfully the intensity of my feelings subsided. I could imagine him now, and walk by without having to focus on keeping my legs from noodling out like jelly. I'm eighteen and in my last year of school, and now that I'm strong enough to look his way without flinching, and brave enough to picture him while whacking off and professing my love at the moment of climax, he's gone.

My Mathew is gone. Lorna was right about them. Soul-sucking parasites.

* * *

 **AN: So I just read 'The Host' and saw the movie. I got an awesome idea for an OC slash version, at least I think so. I think I'd like to explore some light and pure romance writing considering the psychological romances on my Fictionpress account as of late have been quite dark, to say the least. But now I'm in the mood for some nice stuff! Yay! If you're here from my other stories, the universe has been conspiring against you. I've been sick and had computer problems, but I will update my other stuff don't you worry. I'm a creature of creative urges, and I must honour them. I've put this out here to see if anyone will take an interest. Then I might continue.**


	2. a VIOLENT INSERTION

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\- 。O 。O 。O 。- **the SOUL** \- 。 O 。O 。O 。 -

* * *

\- O - **Chapter 2** \- O -

。 **White Fierce** 。

* * *

As consciousness began to return the first thing I became aware of was myself. This body, my new body, was awakening from its sedation prior to insertion. Thinking was slow as I gradually surfaced, I couldn't yet connect to my senses. I was excited at the prospect of investigating my new senses, the five of them. In my last life I'd only had four. My last life had also been my first life, so this insertion would probably be the strangest and most bewildering of all those to come.

After awareness of myself, the next thing I noticed was an emotion. I was tense. My body was very anxious.

I wasn't yet thinking in words. My consciousness was limited to the core compartments of this singular brain. My true self was the glittering soul that had coiled itself into the deepest vestiges of the control centre, deeper than a twisting vine penetrating its new home and claiming it for itself. With each passing moment I could feel myself getting closer to lucidity. The emotions intensified, there were more of them now. More concerns. And then when the pre-frontal cortex switched on I got an immediate feel for this specimen's personality. I was also introduced to language.

This being my second life I was considered a fairly un-evolved Soul. Many young souls start off in harmless places, such as the Flower World. No better way to grow in purity and virtue than to spend a good few centuries eating sunshine. But not me, for my own personal evolution I'd opted for a life on the Mist Planet. I was a bear, the greatest joy of mine the simple act of running across ice and snow, the thuds of my footfalls and the power of my muscles. My four hearts pumping blood through my warm-blooded mammalian vessel.

I know why I did it. As a new Soul, I wanted to experience. I wanted to really live and feel. So after a good long life on that home, I decided for somewhere else. I could've been a Dragon, or helped with the evolution of the creatures in Fire World, but I'm not completely uninterested in my own evolution. Evolution is very important to the Souls. But all roads lead to home – I believe there was a similar saying in Bear, somewhat. I started out with a world of physical excitement and exhilaration, so in my next world I decided I should try to tame the vibrant emotions and sensory input of the human species. I'd start outside and work my way in.

I became aware of my body. Strange, I thought the memories would surface first. I was lying down on something. Touch, that was the first sensation to return. I was familiar with touch. But this body was small and slender, not like a Bear. It didn't have fur, and I wasn't lying on sculpted ice or alien metal. I could feel my brow squinting, whether mentally or physically I wasn't sure. The action was in response to frustration as I tried to traverse this new mind.

Then I understood what it was. This young, male body. His body's mind had undergone extensive work by the Healers. The pathways were all wrong, and I recognised they'd been built by incorrect thought patterns, negative emotions and primarily... substance abuse. A lot of substance abuse, bad chemicals rotting away at a once fine thinking device in good working order. And then I saw psychological abuse, physical abuse, trauma, disassociation, hatred, hate, hating... Violence. I jolted, the feelings so intense I felt a wild urge to tear myself free, crawl out of the host's throat in a desperate attempt to get away.

My body jerked, and then I became aware of sound. Healers rushing over to attend to me. The third sense, the new one, smell got me as well. This body recognised it as anti-bacterial and immediately a mental image was constructed of a place called a hospital. I was in too much shock to marvel at the new sensation. It was old news to this mind, but catalogued as a new phenomenon by the glowing white appendage in my skull. Another jolt and soothing words were spoken, fingers stroking my face. This body was used to shying away from comfort. It was unfamiliar and only made him feel weakness and pain.

I found his name now, Mathew Ransley. Matt. He felt strong and operable only through violence.

Anger and aggression had no effect on him, he was numb to it. But he couldn't stand people looking out for him, if he couldn't shut them out it was enough to bring him to tears. And showing weakness was tantamount to asking for more abuse. More resentment and frustration from others but mostly from himself.

But this wasn't Matt's body anymore. It was mine. At that the vicious tremors stopped and I opened my eyes.

"Welcome to life son," a man leaned over smiling, his female assistant shadowing behind him. "My name is Root Fire Song." he had a calming smile, a relieved grin that I had demonstrated control over such a wily host. My eyes briefly scanned the colours in the room, a different spectrum to what was visible for a Bear. "And what should we call you?" he asked me patiently and my eyebrows knitted again as I tried to scour this foggy new brain. I worked to translate my last host's name into this choppy new dialect.

"White..." I'd been an albino bear, even the skin beneath my fur had been pale. The second part of the host's name could translate into various words here, and I tried searching for one that sounded right. Brave, energetic, outspoken... "Fierce."

His own eyebrows copied mine as he frowned thoughtfully, nodding as if in understanding. It wasn't like disapproval, but he was cautious when he spoke again.

"You are a very young soul, White. Do you mind if I just call you White? Usually Souls have six lifetimes of experience before they come to the Human World. You've only been on one other planet, and only had one other life. But it was your decision to come here, so we gave you a young host and have prepared a lot of extra sessions as well as your own personal healer. Everything to help you adapt to your new life here."

My head jerked forward, a sign being displayed that I understood. Then I willed this new body to obey me as I shifted myself around the gourney and sat myself up.

"Careful!" the woman called and stepped forward "The host is still adapting."

I stopped and looked at my arm. It was pale compared to the Healer. Was I white here as well? My complexion matched the woman and I lifted my gaze to Root Fire Song. I analysed his facial features and the pigmentation of his skin and my new brain got back to me with the result: _Aboriginal_. A string of racist and derogatory terms and feelings came spewing out into my awareness, jolting me again.

I was on my feet to the shock of the other two, cringing with disgust. What an awful person this Mathew had been.

"Be careful," the Healer began with a new edge of caution.

"Sorry," I said after a pause. "This body is... difficult..."

"We have Mathew Ransley's file as well as your own. We will get you the help that you need." he spoke assuredly.

"Why don't you sit down, White?" the woman prompted and I looked at her.

 _Woman_. Another influx of derogatory and debasing connotations swept through me and I choked back a sob. The healer was at my side, one arm on my shoulder to support me. I fought again to clear my head.

"This will be a challenge... my last host was not like this one. He is... very un-evolved. You were right to perform an insertion on him."

"We will get you all the help you need."

"Why didn't I get flooded by the memories like they said I would?"

"When repairing the brain we felt it best to slow the recovery of your memory centre... let things come back more gradually... we wanted you to be as less overwhelmed as possible..." then he moved his hand away and the medical gown slipped off my shoulder. I looked at the marking blankly and then unwound the loose string to reveal my torso.

This body had been toned out of an obsessive habit, for Matt it had been another way to not feel vulnerable. Turning around I could vaguely make out the wide-spread tattoo of a roaring tiger that covered my entire back and trailed up my left bicep. He had his own skin marked, how awful. The healer said nothing and the woman's face reddened, she turned away. I could almost feel Matt's pride, how proud he'd been of this pointless bodywork. Masculine, he'd thought it was. Tough, it'd make people know he was tough.

The healer's voice snapped me out of my thoughts "These bodies can be difficult to manage. Especially for younger Souls." Un-evolved Souls. "You are part of the newest generation of our species. As such, I expect you to have frequent sessions with your personal healer. If she feels you are ready, you will be re-assimilated into Mathew Ransley's former life."

"Root Fire Song... this planet hasn't been fully invaded has it?"

"No," he shook his head and motioned for the table, I complied and leaned against the stable gourney. "We have decided that for now it seems possible and prudent to assist humans in their evolution as opposed to a full-scale invasion, for the moment they are co-operative. As such, only humans who are beyond the capacity for repentance and redemption are sentenced to insertion, in accordance with the Soul/human agreement."

"And that agreement allowed inserting in a" I scanned for information "an eighteen-year-old boy?"

"Matt underwent psyche evaluation and behavioural monitoring before it was decided he was too damaged and far gone to ever be a functioning member of society." my gaze drifted "These memories should come back to you soon."

The woman was only half-facing me and it took me a moment to figure out why. She was embarrassed by my exposed torso. _Turned on_ was the term offered by the behavioural patterns of Matt's old mind. She was a lot older than this specimen, but the healer was right when he said human emotions were a lot harder to deal with. As I began innocently pondering the sensation of sexual desire a strong driving force swept over me, culminating in a warm tension of my nether region. It was bewildering, this powerful urge to mate.

Hard to deal with indeed. I picked up the loose front of the gown and threw the corner over my shoulder, covering myself up again.

"Fire Root Song..." I spoke up, needing a distraction. "Where did you get such a name?"

"My name is the compendium of the other lives I've lived on three other worlds." he spoke with a smile and I nodded. Then he turned away "You'll spend tonight here and we'll do some further testing. Afterwards there is a facility we will be shipping you to so you can meet your personal healer."

"Matt was still a student..." I recalled "At Awaba High School..."

"You have plenty of time to follow your calling," the healer continued as he ruffled with papers over by a metal desk. "But when you are ready you will be expected to encourage staff and student relations as per Earth's joint government co-operation scheme."

I blinked and then noticed the nervous assistant as she stepped closer with a mirror.

"You want to see your new face?" she offered it and I took the thin rectangle from her hands. I already knew what I looked like from Matt's memories, but this would be the first time I'd personally seen myself. I held up the mirror and hazel eyes stared back at me.

Matt had an attractive face, now it was my face. But the first thought that struck me was how gaunt it looked. The shadows under the eyes, the unhealthy pigment. I looked frightening. I frightened myself. I imagined this face looked quite fierce while glaring, something Matt often did. Now it wasn't glaring. There was innocent curiosity coupled with unease. The hazel eyes were unique. A band of warm brown around the outside with a ring of green on the inside, now an additional ring of vibrant silver glinted like a halo around my pupil. His honey-brown hair was buzz-cut close to his head, something else that Matt thought would make him look tough.

For all his shallow callous thoughts, vicious behaviour and tragic upbringing, Matt was a very good-looking guy. My eyes left the mirror and met the assistant who had been watching me. She reddened again and turned away.

* * *

 **AN: Glad I got a review on my first chapter! I really thought it would be interesting to see how humans and Souls would relate with their own agendas under the guise of co-operation. The Souls were just barely swayed to give humans a chance, but plenty of people will be less than happy about the aliens meddling. But I'll get more into that next chapter! Stephanie Meyer's works are overly hetero-normative in my opinion, so I hope you do enjoy this slash version Seams.**


	3. by CYBER RESISTANCE

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\- 。O 。O 。O 。- **the SOUL** \- 。 O 。O 。O 。 -

* * *

\- O - **Chapter 3** \- O -

。 **Peter Purcell** 。

* * *

Perhaps the reason I'd been so intensely attracted to Mathew for so long is because I never had a proper boyfriend. Awaba is a painfully small and conservative town on the outskirts of society, surrounded by a heavy throng of bushland. It is hours away from any decent city, located up North of the main state New South Wales. Despite its tiny size (one petrol station, one high school, one post office) it has four churches of varying Christian denominations.

You can feel the heavy masculine expectations in the air. Stop your drawing, go outside and play some rugby. Think of girls, but don't go trying anything until you're married! At least it feels that way to me. My parents aren't religious. They aren't even agnostic, but they are good people. I feel that my family and my upbringing has effected me in two significant ways.

Firstly, there are gay guys in my school. But I'm not interested in any of them. They're not good looking and they just ooze this tragic lack of confidence. Most of them are overweight, but even the ones that aren't have disproportionate bodies and faces. They look damaged, and I can't help thinking having religious parents and living in a community like Awaba would make you that way if you were gay. They can't hide their sexuality, because they're just too darn feminine.

Nothing's wrong with that per se, only that they consider something very wrong with it themselves. But anyway I'm talking about less than half a dozen students of my three hundred school population. I myself don't pass as gay, I'm not out of the closet but that's more so because I never felt I had a reason to come out. I believe why I don't come across as gay has a lot to do with my upbringing. I have two brothers, one older and one younger. They and my Dad are incredibly sporty, there is this macho competitive light-hearted energy that is always present at home.

Pats on the back, _I'm proud of you son_. Even my Mum is a hardened police officer. She was the strict one, also preoccupied with fitness and healthy eating. I'd never even tried coke until I was twelve. School lunches were all fruit and sandwiches and family sport outings were a common occurrence. Due to my upbringing, I don't really eat junk food. Even out of choice. Packeted chips and sugary drinks only dissolve into acid that I can feel puddling in my stomach. Mum is darker in skin tone than my pale Dad, she is a woman of staunch authority and her expectations are always met. In the rare instances she wears dresses it almost looks strange on her.

Dad smiles a lot, a big toothy grin, and I have a lot of memories of his white skin getting red with sunburn after the four of us guys would play football in the park until the sun began to set. He works in a building contractor company. He also volunteers time to coach Awaba's little league, the under eight's town football team. Mum volunteers some of her time helping kids with disabilities in the special ed class of our school. They are good parents despite their strict regime of health and fitness. I really can't complain.

So firstly I believe my upbringing kept feminine interests at bay, there just wasn't the time for them. But secondly, I do attribute my awkwardness and various insecurities to the fact that my family are all better than me. In such a driven home-life success and doing your best was very important. My older brother is in the official rugby league team representing the state and is in his first year of a veterinarian course at university. My younger brother is coming top in all his classes and is involved in sport almost every day. Basketball, rugby league, soccer.

I'm not as motivated as either of my siblings. I don't have clear interests. I participate in family sport games when I have to, and I try, but it isn't really an interest of mine. Thanks to it I do have this relatively fit body, though. I like it, I do. But because I don't look, sound or act gay no one can tell that I am. And I hate that, although coming out to everyone would be too much hassle. I often wonder if there are guys like me, maybe in my classes who are also on the down-low.

I guess it doesn't matter. Mathew never left my mind because there was no one to distract me, but... if I did meet someone would it be fair to even date them when I was so entirely in love with someone else? Even if it was someone I could never have?

I feel like it should be painfully obvious to everyone around me – not least Mathew himself, even though I avoid him. We would be walking the path outside the school blocks, my boyfriend completely enthralled in my expressions as we talked, and then _he_ would skulk by. My face would go slack, it would get hard to breathe. My boyfriend's face would flicker with worry, then he would look between me and the passing Mathew and he would know. He would just know. I think... Mathew should've been able to feel my love for him.

But he's not a smart person, not a good person. Why oh why did it have to be him? I'll never know. All I know is it would never have happened. If he had any idea how I felt he'd laugh and laugh in that scary ruffian voice of his and then beat me up. I keep telling myself that my feelings for him are lessening in time, that's true to an extent. But I get scared thinking that I might love him more than even I'm willing to acknowledge. Loving him never hurt in the early years, hearing about all his countless wrong decisions and the harm he was doing to himself and others, that's when it started to hurt.

I'm a very self-critical and pessimistic person, I've gathered that by now. Walking home from school, or rather to Lorna's house, gave me a moment of quiet thinking time that I really didn't need. My outlook on life was bleak. I believed that most dreams and desires existed to be unfulfilled. I was too self-aware to foster real friendships, and my unusual upbringing seemed to distance me from my peers. _No I don't eat junk food, yes I do need to be home by curfew. You said what to your mother? No I don't drink, like at all. Drugs? Do you know what those do to your body?_

Lorna's upbringing had been a lot more laid-back, but also unusual. She was the only person in school I could comfortably refer to as a friend. Naturally she knew I was gay, it didn't phase her in the slightest. Society norms and constructs meant absolutely nothing to her if it couldn't be used to get something she wanted. Miraculously she hadn't cottoned onto my obsessive crush, and I was going to keep it that way. Lorna was remarkably unobservant most of the time, but all it would take is one innocent question, a stutter on my part or an aversion of the eyes. She would zero in on a secret and then with all the sharpness of a keen predator my answer would be discovered in mere moments. Not because I'd tell her, but she was just that insightful.

Her house was run-down, like a squalor. I left the footpath and well-mown front lawns to her weed-infested property. Empty beer bottles spewed out of an overflowing bin and were littered on the driveway. Her relatives smoked inside, all the time. It was blazing hot out and I'd develop another headache if I stayed outdoors much longer. So I walked through the front door which was slightly ajar, there was never a reason to knock in this house.

In the front room I could hear fans blowing and Lorna's older sister was smoking with some girl and guy friends on the long sofa. The guys wore bandannas and had tattoos, I think they might've been bikers that sold drugs. I gave a half-smile and timid wave, they recognised me and stopped mid-conversation but didn't say anything. I continued down the hallway that led to Lorna's bedroom.

Knocking once I opened the door. A big fan was going and the room was dark, curtains drawn, its only light source a blue bulb which always gave me the intriguing impression of a meth lab. Lorna sat in a comfortable recliner chair on her bulky computer, she removed her headset at the sight of me.

"Good, you're here." we never really said 'hi' to each other. I walked in and closed the door, then I went to sit on her lumpy queen-sized bed. She swivelled around to face me "Pretty sick isn't it?"

"What?"

"That they're sending a parasite back to our own school! It'll be there, learning alongside us."

"Yeah, I guess," I was careful to measure my reactions.

"You guess?" she leaned forward "Peter they are masterminds and need to be stopped. That's the reason the ASM was founded in the first place!"

"I thought we weren't supposed to talk about that while your family was home?"

"Who cares," she waved her hands dismissively and curled her lip "they're too busy getting high to give a shit about what we're saying in here."

"You know... the aliens aren't supposed to be violent, at all."

"In their own way they're taking over, Peter. And I've heard some interesting theories about this," she leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially "You know how the ASM is looking for proof that the shared consciousness theory of the Souls is true?" as she asked I nodded, having heard that theory from her before "Well now some are saying there are higher ups, off world, who pull the strings. Think about it, alien leaders would mass produce subjects incapable of insurrection. They're an 'evolved' species after all. They're doing it to gain our trust and learn as much as they can before take-over."

"I don't know, Lorna. Maybe. You need proof."

"We're searching. Always searching." she assured me and I rolled my eyes.

ASM stood for Anti-Soul Movement. It was an organisation of elite hackers who made it their sworn duty to expose and rebel against our new planetary co-inhabitants. The Earth government, now allied with the Souls, labelled them a criminal organisation. They were considered terrorists who threatened the peace, now that we didn't actually have terrorists anymore. Impressively enough Lorna was affiliated with the group. She was a hacker, and although had no personal connection to the core members she anonymously received plenty of information and contributed everything she could in return. It was all very exciting, I had to admit.

I heard things from her, things she wasn't technically supposed to tell me. Lorna didn't say everything of course, but she definitely gave away more than she was supposed to. She had a natural distrust of the aliens that bordered on hatred. I didn't like them much either, before what they did to Mathew. Now I suppose I hate them as well. Don't get me wrong, they did a lot for our species and for the planet, but they're definitely getting a bit too involved in our affairs. Is this perfect world still not good enough? You're going to stick your tentacles in and tell us how to run our schools and businesses as well?

So much for only wanting to help. They clearly want more and more. That becomes more apparent every day.

It felt like Lorna and me were involved in something criminal. But it was fun cause we could say we were doing our part in the fight for humanity. Everyone had at least heard of the ASM, they were responsible for various protest stunts but there weren't enough of them to do anything serious. There were always whispers of plans though, whether there was a bite to this ominous and distant bark has yet to be seen.

Turning to face the screen of her computer Lorna spoke as she typed, the ghostly glow of her monitor lighting up our faces "You see, the Souls don't care if we openly protest their involvement. They encourage us to exercise our freedom of speech. But that's only so we can be identified. In the beginning they only inserted inmates sentenced to death-row, and then that expanded to murderers and rapists. Now there's no such thing as high-level prisons. And then this happened, they inserted a school student. They say he was beyond help, I say bullshit. Mathew Ransley isn't the first youth they've done it to, young people are getting inserted in various different locations. There's not the moral outrage that there should be, everything is being contained. _For our own best interests_."

I was glad she couldn't see my face, how much it crumpled upon being reminded of the fate of the boy I loved. She wasn't speaking now, just clacking away. I needed to say something in response or she'd crack on to me.

"Ye _ah_ ," my voice broke, but I don't think it was obvious enough to catch her attention. I cleared my throat.

"Listen to this: ' _The Earth Joint-Government Co-operation Scheme is merely another poorly disguised ruse for further alien infiltration. More and more Souls are being introduced to various societies and institutions to familiarise us with our so-called allies. This is only to keep us from questioning the truth when more and more of us are given over to infestation. After even all the petty criminals have been turned, they will then further segregate us and turn all humans until the small percentage of us (pacifists who are literally incapable of violence and anger) is all that remains._ ' That's a direct quote from the leader." she turned around to glance at me excitedly and then she faced back to her monitor.

"That's just floating out there on the internet?"

"Yep, sure is. And as expected, alien internet moderators are already wiping it out in various places and trying to find the source's signal."

"Hm." it was interesting no doubt, but I knew Lorna's dedication to the ASM had less to do with moral conviction and more to do with a natural propensity for disorder.

Lorna was an anarchist. She didn't look that impressive in person, in fact she was quite unattractive. A short, squat brunette girl with wide hips. But she was never self-conscious. In fact, she was fiercely intelligent with a ruthless tact for exploitation. It was disturbing how well she could read people when she took an interest in them, which was rarely for any purpose other than her own satisfaction or physical gain. Still, she was my friend. And a good friend to have. Her resourceful mind, always whirring and calculating, and her ability to shut out her conscience for greater goals is admirable to me. She was an odyssey in this house and in this family. A genetic anomaly that had made her into a genius.

Obviously there was something not quite right about her. Nevertheless Lorna truly was a genius and the ASM themselves had acknowledged her when she reached out to contact them. She was the reason we were linked to the last vestige of human resistance.

* * *

 **AN: I put this up cause DarkDust27 favourited. I don't really like readers who follow stories but won't give feedback, but then again you favourited so...? I do like reviews, so if there are people out there reading this please let me know so I can continue. I wrote again cause this story is still in its early stage, but I'm not going to write it if nobody is reading. There's no point. So... tell me if you like it! I got into the resistance now. It's not so much a physical war, due to overwhelming numbers of Souls, but I really like the idea of cyber resistance trying to spread propaganda and fight for people's morale and using guerilla tactics xD Too much exposition in this one? Tell me what you think.**


	4. on SUBTLE ASSIMILATION

。

\- 。O 。O 。O 。- **the SOUL** \- 。 O 。O 。O 。 -

* * *

\- O - **Chapter 4** \- O -

。 **White Fierce** 。

* * *

The facility was called the Soul Support Centre. It was a large cylindrical shaped building made out of the same shining metal we transported with us in our maiden voyage to Earth. The purpose of the facility was to keep Soul citizens educated and supported through our assimilation into the human communities. Considering the native species of this world were being guided instead of conquered, it meant there was a lot more work involved in being a Soul here.

Firstly, participating in the community plans and schemes is mandatory. Callings come second. There's a lot of work to be done in terms of encouraging co-operation and maintaining peace. Awaba high school has no Soul students or teaching staff, but typically they get visited by speakers every six months or so who talk at assemblies and let the teenagers ask questions. Based on the reports the school isn't a high-level threat for people like me. There were a few rude comments in the last speaking visit and someone had sneaked out back to throw a single egg at their car during the assembly. So, mid-level threat.

Secondly, most humans have been scared out of the idea of violence. We understood that the humans would consider insertion a tough consequence for only a single act of assault, but for Souls it was just common sense. But we are patiently humouring them for the most part, shipping mild offenders off to help centres and trying to break their bad habits. I think humans are scared to act out now that they know insertion is a very real possible consequence for anti-social behaviour. Souls never needed to use fear as a means for keeping our own species in check. It does sound a bit tyrannical, even to me, but I do believe it is necessary until humans reach the evolved understanding that we have.

On top of Matt's former duties as a student, I will be charged with promoting Soul/human relations primarily for the students at Awaba high school. At all times I will have to be polite, generous and informative. I will encourage questioning and will help educate the humans about our kind and our collective goal for a better world. This could be tough. I could be well-received, or unanimously disliked and avoided. I'm choosing to stay positive.

The National Bureau of Statistics show that Soul civilians are twice as likely to be the victims of assault or anti-social behaviour than the average human. This statistic has quadrupled since five years ago when we used to be less likely to be made victims over ordinary humans. It is believed there are two main opposing factors for this statistic. One, humans initially were very wary of us. We take care of our own kind, and each Soul has an embedded tracker and regular recorded contact with our personal healer. It seemed it was believed attacking one of us would lead to harsher consequences, insertion more likely to be one of them. This is true, to a degree. It was the reason why at first we were mostly not targeted – the fear aspect.

The second factor in opposition to the first is that Souls are easy victims. We are polite to a fault in this world. We don't hit back, we are shocked and deeply affected by violence. Viewed as such weak creatures a lot of the predatory humans are drawn to us. Some are willing to engage in minimal violence against a target who won't hit back, if all it cost them was a single strike to their profile. Laws and punishments are going to have to toughen up, or recorded assaults against Souls are going to continue to rise.

Truthfully, every Soul knew what they were signing up for when they came here. Our care not only extends to ourselves, but if there was a chance we could effectively guide humans then we were going to take it. On this planet, we are on the front lines, fighting to help these little beings who are so much like small children in terms of understanding. They need us to keep themselves safe from each other.

When I first went outside to travel to the Soul Support Centre in Soldias (a new Soul-built city just West of Sydney) I marvelled at the sun. Not for long, I quickly remembered you weren't supposed to look at it directly. But the localised star was so much bigger and brighter and visible than the white dwarf of my last world which had been always concealed by mist, seemingly not creating light from a single point in the sky. This Sun was just so brilliantly yellow, its healing rays almost golden. I loved the sunshine, and the sunrises and sunsets were a stunning natural phenomenon for me. Humans were lucky to have such a place to call home.

For three weeks I'd remained in the Centre, adapting to my new life and memories. They were crippling, to say the least. I would have nightmares about being inside Matt's mind, watching him doing terrible things while I screamed at him to stop. I'd wake caked in sweat, trembling and shaking. It was a lot more than I thought I'd have to deal with. The most alarming memory for me had been the incident before Matt's final arrest. He wasn't interested in school, he'd only remained enrolled due to the drop-out age being disbanded – another legal ruling pushed by the Souls. Matt didn't want to learn, but he didn't want to work either. The threat of insertion hadn't stopped him from thieving. It was like he'd decided that was the only way he was going to live, and all he could do now was make sure he didn't get caught. It was to feed his drug addiction, but he had no interest in getting clean either.

However, Matt was a careless thief. He broke into a house owned by an elderly couple, he'd known the residents were frail prior to breaking inside. While ransacking their house they'd awoken and discovered him in their living room. The man threatened to call the police and Matt flew into a rage. He beat the poor weaker man half to death before turning on his pleading wife. Were it not for the advances in health provided by the Souls the elderly couple, the man especially, would've been permanently disabled. But they recovered perfectly, and at the court hearing even announced that they would try to forgive Matt. But Matt hadn't been sorry for what he'd done, not at all.

After being informed he was sentenced to insertion he'd flown into another rage. Everyone else was to blame for his own actions, always. But then he'd been tranquillised by human authorities, and that was his last living memory.

My personal healer's name was Soaring Anne. She'd been on the first wave of Souls to this planet, arrived ten years ago. She had strands of grey in her dark hair, sharp pretty features and pale blue eyes. She was a good listener and caring, like all Souls, but she also possessed a strength to her character – perhaps something she inherited from her host which could've been described as a no-nonsense attitude. When I spoke her head nodded, small and fast, like an eager bobble-head jiggling on a dashboard as the car went over slight bumps in the road. She had degrees in human psychology and criminology. Tough subjects for a Soul to stomach, maybe she was a younger one like me? Conversation in our sessions rarely shifted to her personal life.

"Do you feel ready for tomorrow?" she asked me again. Three weeks and my hair had grown just a little bit longer. It took on the shade of dirty blonde in the sunlight.

"I really do," I told her again from the comfortable leather green chair. Her legs were crossed, a clipboard in her lap and a pen being rolled between her fingers. Thoughtful expression, professional pose.

"This will be difficult, human youths can be especially vulgar."

"I'm up to the challenge." I spoke assuredly "And besides, it's only for what? Eight months and then I'll get into University?"

"True. And that reminds me. Your calling, sculpturing wasn't it? I have good news."

"I got into Art school?" I sat forward with my eyebrows raised.

"Social work and integration is still the primary job for all Souls, but yes, we were able to find an Art school in another rural town where you can both advocate for our species and focus on your calling. Warragul is four hours away, you'll move there after you graduate at Awaba. And the best news – there will be three other Souls attending as well. One of them a teacher."

"That is great! Thank you!" I leaned back and gave a sigh of relief.

"It'll be good for you to have more Soul contact, yes. But for now we'll focus on Awaba. Social workers will be doing regular visits once a week to check up on you. It's a twenty minute drive for them to reach you, but you can call them for any reason. Or me, any reason at all." she promised seriously and I nodded "You'll be living by yourself, we've already shown you pictures of the place. It has state of the art security systems, a necessity. There is also a night time curfew at which time you must be home... also necessary." she added and I nodded again.

"Okay, that's good."

"What has your mindset been lately, still having nightmares?"

"Yes," I admitted with a bit of reluctance. "But not every night anymore. A lot of the dreams don't make so much sense now, there's just this feeling of anxiety..."

"Recalls can be tough, especially for younger Souls. But you are handling the process really well, I'm impressed with the progress you've made in the short time we've worked together."

"I didn't expect the emotions to be this hard..." I began suddenly "It's gotten a little easier, and I didn't expect I'd have to constantly keep my feelings on a leash. But I do know I have the power to keep myself under control. For the most part, I'm excited to go to school. I know that's strange. One of the reasons I got my name, White Fierce, was because as a cub I always had so much energy and enthusiasm. I thought that aspect of me might have only come from my former host, but I'm glad to see that it might actually be a part of the real me. Who _I_ am."

"The lucky ones take the best parts of their former hosts and carry them to their next lifetimes." Soaring Anne told me with a smile. I grinned back, a little awkwardly. "Well, if that's all then I say we call it a night. Have a good sleep, and tomorrow the social workers will help you with the move. You'll resume classes again at Awaba high school on Monday." she got to her feet.

"Thank you," and because I really was grateful for her help, I stood up and offered my hand. She shook it with an encouraging smile.

"Good luck, White."

After leaving her office I paced the curved hallway to my temporary room. The glass windows went floor to ceiling on the outer wall of this level, I glanced out at the city lights of Soldias. It was relatively safe out at night now, but still a lot more risky than walking about in the day. I followed the arched path to the next adjoining corridor and then turned down it, my room the first door to the right. I twisted the handle and pushed into a bland generic room of dark indigo. The curtains, walls, bedsheets, carpet were all the same shade. It was only my temporary residence and tonight would be my last sleep here.

Closing the door I tapped the bedside lamp and a dim light flooded the room. I drew my white cotton top over my head and kicked off my white slippers, discarding both on the floor. I left the white pants on and stopped part-way leaning over the bed when I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror. Staring, I straightened and then crept over to get a better look at myself, expression neutral. Over the weeks the definition in Matt's toned body had definitely faded. It was still very much fit, but I didn't have his obsessive compulsion to maintain his level of physical appeal – or toughness or whatever the heck it was.

This body, this face, was a little stunning to me in its appeal. It was strange to think that, about myself. This body, my body, was attractive. The unhealthy pigmentation in my face was fading, the shadows under the eyes receding. I looked a lot less gaunt. An innocence was in my eyes and face that hadn't existed in the host's; I was shining through the body I was wearing. My last body, White Fierce's, had not been attractive. He had in fact been the runt of the litter. The small albino bear who had one hind leg disabled after a traumatising incident in an ice field, couldn't run like the other bears so stayed home and worked on his calling. Practised my ice-sculpting.

In my last life I received recognition from my skills, things I could do, talents I honed. Never did I receive attention for my looks, it was such a superficial reason. Such a cop-out. Souls were better than that, but these human emotions were so intense. It took us a while to adapt. I received stares on the street, naturally. This was so easy, getting recognition simply for looking good. So automatic. People were too intimidated by Matt when he'd been in control, but now that I smiled to people invitingly they drifted toward me like gravity.

I thought about it again. The pull to mate. My hand went to touch me of its own accord but I stopped it. Immediately turning away from the mirror I went to bed. Threw the covers open, ducked inside and threw them back over me. I touched the lamp and the room was shrouded in blackness. Only like this, when it was so dark it might not even be happening, could I touch myself. It felt so, so good. Unbelievably good. Just to feel my body, sometimes bringing myself close to climax, but never actually going over the edge.

Only in the dark could I do this, watching myself do it in the mirror or with the lights on was too intimidating. I explored my body, Matt's body, because I was just as transfixed by it as the strangers who'd eye my torso and face. I was transfixed by the thought that _I_ was attractive. These depraved hormones of an adolescent boy on top of the natural inclinations of humans was too much for me. I needed to touch myself. I tried to keep as silent as possible when my breaths got heavier, when my heart started pounding in my ears. My desirable body.

At some point in the night, maybe in an hour or so, I'd grow either bored with it or tired and then I would sleep. This private moment of excitement made going to bed worth it though, when I was sure to have another awful experience while asleep. Bears also dreamed, but not quite as vividly as humans. My nightmares were torture.

I awoke the next day strewn across the bed like a starfish. A result of presumably tossing and turning all night. I couldn't remember the nightmare, only how it felt. Anxious, tension, maybe I'd been running from something? Bright sunlight streamed through the edges of my curtain. Yawning and stretching I sat up in bed. Then I got out and spread the indigo curtains wide, letting the light flood inside and greeting the populated city of Soldias with another stretch. It was past nine o'clock according to the digital alarm beside my bed. I was supposed to be leaving with the social workers at ten, so I headed into the adjoining bathroom and quickly showered. Then I dressed, not in the plain clothes provided here, but in regular clothes I'd need to fit in.

A maroon patterned top with navy-blue three-quarter pants. It fit my body nicely, most things fit it nicely. My leather enclosed shoes were black and simple, the shoes I'd need for school. I went into the bathroom and washed my face, then shaved it. Me and Matt both preferred it clean-shaven. Before leaving the bathroom to finish packing my stuff I stopped for a minute to look at my face in the mirror again. I did this often – catch glimpses of myself in various reflective surfaces and just look at myself. It was probably overly vain of me. Un-Soul-like.

The door knocked just as I zipped up my carrier bag. I turned away from my bed and opened the door.

"Hello White," a tall man with cropped black hair smiled at me. "My name's Climbs The Crevice. You're one of the clients assigned to me and my partner. She's waiting down by the car outside," he offered me his hand and I shook it.

"I just finished packing, we can head down now." I told him politely.

"Oh good. Need help carrying anything?" he asked as I went back to the bed and heaved up the bag.

"I'm alright thanks," I told him and he held the door open for me. The two of us walked down the corridor together and made our way to the stairs.

* * *

 **AN: Okay I lied. I just wanted to see if readers would actually review. But I certainly won't be writing this for very long if no one gives any feedback. I'm going to get into the romance aspect first though. I was hoping Peter and White could meet in this chapter but that didn't end up happening, oh well. Next chapter it is!**


	5. an AUSPICIOUS TASK

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\- 。O 。O 。O 。- **the SOUL** \- 。 O 。O 。O 。 -

* * *

\- O - **Chapter 5** \- O -

。 **Peter Purcell** 。

* * *

It happened the very next week, on Monday after the weekend. I rode my bike to school with my brother Rick who was three years my junior but only one grade below me. I was steering my red sports cycle near the curb and weaving around parked vehicles while Rick pedalled on the walkway, veering around groups of students and ignoring their angry glares. Ahead there was a crowd of uniformed teenagers gathered by the front gate. They all fixated on a shiny silver car as it pulled up at the front. It glinted almost as brightly as the morning sun and I recognized the strange alloy as that alien metal.

"Hey Petey!" he looked back at me while the wind of our speed fluttered the loose straps of his helmet. "I think it's Matthew Ransley!" He was excited and turned his face forward before he could see me gulp.

When Matt had been a student here before, poor attendance record aside, I was pretty sure no one knew his name. Many probably knew of him as a trouble-maker, but he was probably just known as ' _that guy_ '. I knew Matt's name. It circled around my head multiple times a day, more frequently than the three musical notes of the class and lunch bell. Now everyone knew his name and the fact that they were all saying aloud those words I'd kept hidden and repeated inside for so long I found it oddly disconcerting. But the boy in that car was not Matthew Ransley. I almost said it out loud.

He was only his murderer. An extra-terrestrial freak. The driver and passenger door of the car opened, a man and a woman – both tall, both giving the crowd gentle smiles and awkward waves – got out and stood by the back car door facing the school. Rick stuck his foot out and dragged a line through the dirt and bark, I squeezed my brakes and stopped as well. I was just close enough to see the glint of reflective silver in their eyes. The door between them opened and I held my breath.

Matt stepped out in school uniform that looked smart and tidy. Green jumper, grey trousers, proper school shoes, collar tucked out, he was even wearing his tie. I noticed his hair was longer, just a bit, long enough for the honey-brown colour to be clearly visible. It glinted like butterscotch in the sunshine. When I saw his face I felt a familiar pit in my stomach, my knees trembled, my neck felt hot and I could barely breathe. _Fuck he's beautiful_.

His face was so different, so open. Then he did something I'd never seen him do before: a genuine smile without a trace of negativity. I almost fell over my bike. _Why God? Fuck, why me?_ Then I noticed his eyes, the beautiful hazel tainted with an alien silver. _That is not Matthew Ransley_ , I had to tell myself. _It is only wearing his skin_. Matt's private helpers started towards the crowd and they both swarmed and moved apart at the same time. Matt looked tentative as he greeted and responded to his peers, they started jumping him with questions. He sped up to keep pace with the two alien adults.

Rick turned back to look at me when Matt was out of sight.

"You alright Peter?"

"Yeah."

I hopped off my bike and started walking it over to the school gate. My expression had changed from pining to a dark glower when I'd recognized the difference in his eyes. The look remained the same as I stared at the dirt while I walked. When I glanced up I could see Lorna standing away from the crowd on the other side of the blue bars, watching on darkly like a secret witness. She caught my eyes with her own and turned away meaningfully.

That whole day Matt would be the main focus of everyone's attention. His escorts had followed him into the office but then left shortly afterwards. He was alone with crowds of students around seemingly badgering him non-stop. Most people weren't scared of him, a few kind of lingered around at a distance and watched on like myself, but most of the students were able to go right up to him and talk. I'm sure it helped that he was being so friendly and inviting. Matt had always been attractive but never so polite, that smile was dazzling. Every so often a teacher would intervene and ask the students to give him some space, but Matt would simply give a dismissive nice-guy 'it's alright' gesture. It seemed everything was going according to plan for the aliens, their infiltrator was being accepted.

Imagine my surprise when it turned out Matt would be in my roll call. Although I supposed it made sense. After Year Ten classes stop being grouped by academic level in such a general way, students get all different classes to accommodate electives and such. Roll call has no reason to change though. The original Matt would have been in one of the lower classes filled with other delinquents and troublemakers. The new and improved Matt would be moved to take roll with the well-behaved highest class, just in case his old peers give him a hard time. I didn't notice Lorna or anyone else as I joined the line outside the classroom.

"What is Matt doing here?" my voice came out in a strangled whisper. I could see him standing by the door surrounded by most of my roll group.

"His name isn't Matt." A pony-tailed girl turned around and said. _Oh right._ They all had alien names. It was probably 'Star Tree' or something. "It's White Fierce." Close enough. Pony-tail turned back around and I heard Lorna scoff, only now noticing her leaning against the brick wall beside me. We were the only two not crowding in to listen to whatever Matt – or I should say _White Fierce_ – was saying.

Even students from the room down the corridor were coming down to join us. Our new celebrity seemed to be doing his best to interact with everyone. After a minute of standing beside Lorna and trying to ignore everybody else our balding key-wielding teacher showed up and joined the fan club. Mr Stephens and White exchanged a few sentences before the doorway gradually opened alongside talking and then we started to file in. Lorna rolled her eyes and pushed off the wall. I went in last and the students not from this class lingered in the open doorway.

I could see Matt better now as he settled into a desk in the front row. It hit me then, a jarringly strange realisation. Mathew Ransley is in my roll call group being cheerfully social and talking to everybody. _He is not Mathew!_ I had to scold myself again harshly as I followed a visibly disgruntled Lorna to a back corner of the classroom. My beautiful Mathew had a distinctly exotic vibe to him now; something about his mannerisms was just so very peaceful and alien. _He is not Mathew!_ I dropped down into my seat with a thud.

We had barely enough time to do the roll. All of today's announcements were drowned out and forgotten in the light of White Fierce. He was, quite simply, the most interesting thing to ever happen to our measly town of Awaba, to our small high school of only a few hundred. The first alien peer anyone had ever been able to talk to with complete openness. Even his voice sounded different to me now. When White spoke there was no gruffness, no harsh edges. I'd never heard Matt speak softly like that before. I'd assumed that the guy's bad-boy thing must have been part of my attraction to him, but maybe at this point after four years I was just too far gone for it to matter?

Seeing Matt being kind and approachable was making my heart swell in a painful way. I wanted to cry out and clutch my chest. Seeing him like this (a Matt that could have been had life been kinder to him and had he made better choices) was shockingly infatuating and even arousing. I'd never felt bad about being unable to be near him, because nobody else was really close to him either. Now everyone was getting up close and personal, and I couldn't. It was almost too much. Lorna was scribbling furiously in a textbook while the rest of the class chatted loudly from where they surrounded White Fierce. I looked down at her page to see her scrawl: _filthy fucking parasite_.

In my mind I tried to demonize him as well. This was not the boy I loved, that thing was his killer. White Fierce isn't human. My emotions were like a pendulum, swaying between deep love for Mathew and sheer disgust for White. If only I could see them as separate entities. Even though I'd been the last to come inside, when the bell chimed its three notes I was the first out the door.

White Fierce was not in my first class, but he was in my second. Throughout General Maths he was bombarded by questions from both students and the teacher. Ms Hubscher at least tried to keep on track with the lesson. I was the only one who averted my gaze from White completely. At lunch Lorna and I sat next to each other on the brick wall bordering the staircase and ate in silent brooding fury. With our eyes we followed the crowd along the edge of the sport's oval. First lunch went by in absolute silence before Lorna broke it as the bell sounded again for period three.

"We need to hang out at my place. After school." It was becoming a common phrase for her now, thick with conspiratorial implications. I nodded and she headed off.

White Fierce was in my third class, Geography. There was relative quiet but constant hushed whispers from the group around the alien that our strict teacher uncharacteristically allowed. Fourth class I could relax. On my second lunch break I listened to Lorna rant about the injustices and the ASM as she paced back and forth beside the wall of shrubbery outside the library. She was talking about the real Matthew as if he were a martyr now. I gave only murmurs of agreement.

Then afterwards something truly unexpected happened. In the final class of the day White Fierce showed up to my Art elective. Matthew had done all sport electives but White was of course, a different person. He hadn't taken Matthew's place in the school, only his body. Matt may not have been but it seemed as though this White was an artsy person. Today was a practical lesson and we were all expected to work on our final art project due at the end of the year. I sat down at the desk and worked on the rough sketches for my comic book. Other students were moulding clay, fiddling with charcoal and planning out their ideas on art paper.

White set up a canvas with its back to me by the door and started painting. Students lingered around him asking questions and each chuckle from the boy felt like a knife blade to me. I packed my things a few minutes early and was all ready to go when the final bell sounded. I went straight for the door, trying not to glance back at his painting and failing miserably. I faltered in surprise, it wasn't what I expected. In fact it was quite terrible – looked like the work of a primary school kid. He needed a lot of practice. Continuing out I couldn't quite relax until I was out of A Block. Then when I was breathing normally again I walked quickly to the bike racks so I could get out of here.

 _This is bad. This is really bad._ I couldn't keep doing this every day until the end of the year. Lorna was right, something had to be done.

The sun beat against the back of my neck and my arms as I walked my bike beside Lorna. She was going on and on about hypnotic brainwashing and psychoanalytical communication techniques. I was too bothered by the heat to think properly. My thoughts buzzing and distracted by the dry twigs that would snap under my feet. Stopping at the next street I looked both ways before crossing.

"Are you alright, Peter? You've barely said a word all day." Lorna lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she studied me.

"I'm… no, I'm not okay. I can't believe they'd just arrest one of our classmates, suck out his soul and then tell us he's coming back in a week's time and just _plop_ , alien in our classroom."

"Did you see how it was trying to get on everyone's good side? Fucking disgusting. They're a plague and we need to be rid of them. Bloody parasites."

"I'm sure there must be other people in school who agree with us."

"Well it certainly doesn't look like it! Gullible saps. But nah, they're all afraid to publically say anything. If they weren't before they will be now, we have a spy now sitting in plain sight."

"Yeah…"

"We'll just have to take matters into our own hands." Lorna added and turned off the footpath onto her rubbish-littered lawn. I was relieved to see shelter and trudged through the weeds to those front steps. The front door was wide open and the screen had holes in it. Inside I could see a tiny potted cactus by the dirty kitchen window, a line of masking tape covering up a crack in the glass. To be in shade was a relief, I could feel the heat rolling off my body. Lorna's Dad was lying on the couch fanning himself with the TV guide.

"Hi," I gave an awkward wave. He spotted his daughter and struggled to his feet.

"You didn't wash the dishes last night!" He was a stumpy man with a beer-gut and chopper moustache, his oddly high-pitched voice was always what got me as weird.

"I was busy!" Lorna fired back.

"They've been there all week!"

"Why don't you get off your lazy ass and do them?"

"I'm the one paying the bills young lady!"

"You don't know how to pay a bill!"

They proceeded to argue as if I wasn't there. I edged further into the house awkwardly, towards Lorna's bedroom before finally leaving them. They kept up their shouting match for a few minutes, soon everyone else was being blamed, particularly Lorna's older sister Stacey. Overflowing rubbish out the back not being cleared away VS water bills not being paid VS a jewellery box going missing VS the air conditioning unit not getting fixed. They kept going back to that one, it was clear to me the temperature seemed to be the main reason tempers were boiling in this household. That and the fact they were all lazy slobs.

I reached for Lorna's bedroom handle and heard a whine. In the back room I could see their nameless brown dog sitting in front of a churning fan. Walking over I picked up the empty ice-cream container and refilled his water from the sink beside their washing machine. I dropped it down for him and he immediately started lapping it up with his long tongue. I never pet their dog or touched him at all cause he smelt really bad. On my way back to Lorna's bedroom door I saw her storming out of the front room, she beat me in and left it open in her wake. Blinds still down and blue fluorescent bulb going. She traversed the mess to three separate corners, turning on little fans which blew air through the dank humidity of the place.

"Close the door," Lorna instructed me. "We've got some serious stuff to talk about."

I obeyed and she was immediately in her comfortable leather wheely-chair, equipping her headset and switching on the various monitors of her computer. When she faced back to me she leaned forward, her expression grave and eyes alight. I had to learn forward too to hear her whispering over the fans blowing stale air into our faces.

"I told the ASM about Matthew Ransley and I got a response from someone, they told me they sympathized and sent me all this information about Soul students and workers being reassimilated into human organizations for the purposes of their agenda and gaining false trust."

"The Anti-Soul Movement sent you data?"

"Yeah, and here's what we're going to do. I'm going to suggest it to the leader tonight. Are you ready for this?"

"What do you mean?" I didn't like the devious excitement on her face. She leaned closer.

"We're going to take the parasite."

"What?"

"I've already done all the thinking, everything's planned. My sister's boyfriend has the van we can use. We'll take him to the junk yard, it's isolated and big enough. There we'll meet with actual members of the ASM who will take him and then we'll split. They'll deactivate his trace chip and there you have it: very first prisoner slash guinea pig. Score one for the human race."

"You…" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You want to kidnap him?"

"Peter he's the only Soul in all of Awaba." She whispered with slow exhilaration. "Do you have any idea what kind of achievement this would be for the ASM? This could be humanity's first step in a proper war against the invaders. And it will all start here, with us. We could be responsible for saving our whole race, just by doing this one tiny major thing. Do you have any idea how important this is?"

While she spoke I glanced nervously at the closed door, wondering if there was any way her Dad could be listening in.

"It sounds… dangerous."

"All we have to do is surprise him, get him in the van when no one's around, deliver him to the other ASM guys and then it's done. Only we could do this, none of their other members are willing to risk it. But I've already thought of everything! This is for humanity, Peter. I need you with me on this."

"I…" I could never hurt Mathew, but White Fierce… that was another story. I'd thought so myself hadn't I? There was no way I could keep going to classes with him, be reminded day in and day out of what was lost while absolutely no one mourns the man I loved. "Fine. Yes, Lorna I'll help you."

She squealed in excitement and jiggled in her chair. Spinning back to face her computer those skilled fingers flew naturally over the keys as she got herself online.

"I knew I could count on you! You'll see, we're about to change the world."

* * *

 **AN: Ho ho! Long time no see! No one was reviewing this story so I kind of just stopped, meh. But then a magical thing happened! I got in the mood to update old stories! I wrote a chapter for this one, another one and two other stories on my FictionPress profile. Aint you lazy sods a lucky lot? Nah, I'm only saying that because I'm sure no one will read this. If someone got this far I think they'd be reviewing to ask for updates. Ah well, live and let die I guess!**


	6. for PAST'S REQUIEM

。

\- 。O 。O 。O 。- **the SOUL** \- 。 O 。O 。O 。 -

* * *

\- O - **Chapter 6** \- O -

。 **White Fierce** 。

* * *

Matthew Ransley wasn't used to being woken by nasal beeping at 6am, his life had been alarmless, but White Fierce didn't want to be late for his second day of school. After reaching over and shutting off the noisy contraption I allowed myself a moment to lie back and gaze upward at the motionless ceiling fan. Seeing it but not really seeing it. I felt well-rested because school had exhausted me. So much questions and attention and wide-eyed bright faces. I felt like I'd done a good job, engaged properly with everyone, feeling like a politician – putting on a pleasant show so they'd follow my campaign. The 'Support Soul-Human Relations Campaign', _we're all friends here_. After getting home yesterday and away from the group that hovered by the walkway, I closed and locked the front door, then exhaled a breath that I felt like I'd been holding all afternoon.

Then I'd walked around my communal-looking living space, the little government house still bare, a boiler and salt-and-pepper shakers standing out in the empty kitchen. I paced a bit, sorting through my emotions and Matthew's memories that were _still_ returning at odd moments. I reached up and scratched the few inches of hair length that was unfamiliar to the host's brain. I'd checked in with my support workers quickly, Climbs the Crevice and Leaves Above, we talked for maybe ten minutes about how my day went through the webcam of the flat-screen computer they'd issued me. Afterward I struggled with Ms Hubscher's homework for General Maths. Then I talked some more with my healer Soaring Anne, who'd been kind enough to phone and check up on me. I told everyone I was doing well, because I was. So far so good, I think.

I wouldn't be late to school, I got up after my awkward morning erection went down and then headed for the shower. Maybe it was the bed's fault, it was more comfortable than the one in the Centre back in Soldias, I'd dozed off quickly then woken warm, sensual and aroused. I showered quickly, absent-mindedly having the water too hot, which is how the host had always done it. I padded myself dry with the towel because my skin was irritated, then I dressed carefully in Awaba High's school uniform – white button top, navy three-quarter pants, green tie. Mathew didn't even know how to tie a tie, but Climbs the Crevice had shown me before I was abandoned to the humans. It felt vaguely like being thrown to wild animals, but humans _did_ have the capacity to understand, I was choosing to believe that.

I munched on a sugary cereal for breakfast and dug around the cupboards until finding the instant coffee, making myself a cup so I'd be alert from the get-go. And then I dawdled a bit before finally leaving the house. Stepping onto the porch it was a cold but bright morning, so I had my green jumper slung over my shoulder. I turned to lock the door with my set of keys, dropped them, bent down to pick them back up. This house was close to the school and the supermarket, I could already see students on both sides of the street, fellow walkers. A pair of them stopped when they noticed me and as I hopped down the stairs I realised they'd be the beginning of the crowd that would regrow around me.

On the Mist World I'd gained recognition for my sculpture work, but with my bum leg I'd not been out of the ice cave much, so only got attention from crowds at important gatherings. This was different, because these weren't other souls but other aliens, fascinated by me, studying every action and expression then cataloguing it into a mental list. Voracious curiosity. I stepped down the walkway and past the letterbox and purple flower bush, toward the two girls waiting for me. _Angela_ , the first girl had introduced herself to me brightly. The second one, _Hi I'm Phoebe_ , was more reluctant and when I realised she was familiar I scanned Matt's memories and found out why. In eighth grade she had a crush on him, wrote him a love letter, he'd tried to use her feelings to get in with her, have sex. She'd refused so he'd called her a _slut_ anyway, the love letters stopped.

I felt awkward and guilty around the second girl, even though it hadn't been me that hurt her but Matt. This happened several times the first day as well. The overweight boy with the friendly smile but hurt still lingering in his eyes, because the owner of this body used to push him around all the time. Stole twenty dollars from him at one point. There were so many students that Matt had wronged, and I had to live through it all each time I saw their faces. I know I hadn't done it, but the memories and emotions were vivid, it seemed like I _had_ hurt those people so I felt guilt regardless. I was extra nice to Phoebe.

By the time I'd reached the school gates my group of three had grown to about nine. Souls weren't good with human-selfish-nature, and we also weren't used to saying 'no'. Souls didn't usually ask too much of other souls but if they did they used a lot of tact, sensitivity, and logical explanation. I felt embarrassed having to say flat-out 'no' to so many people, all asking me to 'hang out' with them after school, go over to their houses… That was one thing my support workers had made clear. Avoid being alone with fellow students in an unsupervised area (just in case, just to be sure) until the attention wore off and everyone had accepted me being here. I had to take care of myself first.

Upon entering school territory my crowd multiplied, I headed in the direction of the office in the hopes another teacher might order the other kids to give me space. I smiled and socialized but I felt tense, worried I was trying too hard so I started being extra nice to make up for the fake charm. God this was draining.

And then I saw her.

Hiding by the tree-line of the sport's oval, cast in shadow like an ominous stalker. She was very skinny, malnourished-looking, with lank brown hair and sunken glassy eyes. She had a weary face with what seemed like permanent bruises in both sockets. A redness to her nose that permanently left you with the impression she'd just been crying, which may or may not have been true. Her name was Jenny. She was my girlfriend.

Matthew's old girlfriend, technically. No one had known of their relationship except for Matt and her. She was a heroin junkie and had needle pricks speckled on both arms, hidden beneath her long sleeves. Matt used to bully her and she'd always break down into tears, except when she needed drugs, then she'd be a swiping enraged mess of screams and nails. But she gave Matthew sex whenever he wanted (maybe because she loved him) so he was stealing to pay for both of their addictions (or maybe she'd just been using him?). It didn't seem like Matt loved her, or even liked her that much, but she'd been convenient for him and over the eight months they'd spent time together in secret they grew a bond. The relationship had stopped-and-restarted a few times. They were both completely toxic and addicted to each other.

I needed to talk to her. Matt may have been a no-hoper, but I don't think Jenny is. I'd talk to her softly, in private, about all the support we could get for her to reform. I'd quell her fears and let her know everything would be okay. And I'd also apologize sincerely for all the damage Matt may have done: the snide insults, the pushing, the shoving, the manipulation, the guilt and blame. I needed to talk to Jenny, but I couldn't do it alone with all these people following me everywhere. I'd need to wait.

Jenny saw me watching her and after a brief pause she stepped back into the cover of the trees.

Moving around was too difficult so instead I sat down by a wooden bench on the barky mulch and allowed everyone to rapid-fire with their questioning. Yesterday there'd been a lot of questions about Souls. I'd done my best to be informative and considerate of their opinions. Most humans chose to display themselves as 'pro-Souls' but I got a few sceptical questions from some shady-eyed kids that bordered on the political side. Now they were asking questions about me, instead of souls in general.

Mandatory question from red-haired girl: "How are you adjusting?"

Curious freckled boy with large front teeth: "Do you have a lot of contact with the other souls?"

Partially-joking paranoid girl with bulbous eyes: "Are you making reports on everyone and everything you see? You know, to ' _the others_ '?"

And then they were asking questions about Matthew Ransley, which I hadn't been prepared for. Like: 'did I still talk to his parents?' No, Matt had a bad home life and based on information I was able to share in the early days of my transition they were getting help and monitoring from appropriate community services. I was living by myself in a single government housing flat.

A girl who'd done her research asked "Did it feel uncomfortable having all of Matthew's memories flood back, you know, since Souls are so against violence?"

"Oh." I was surprised, and felt oddly understood for a moment. Everyone else quietened a little and glanced at her. "Yes, it was hard."

"Does it make you feel guilty, about Matthew?"

"Yes. But I understand that it wasn't ' _me_ ' who did those things."

"No." The other students were nodding at my answer but the girl kept going, not letting anyone else take the invisible talking stick. "I mean, about Matthew." She kept saying his name for some reason, almost in reverence. "Do you feel bad that you killed him?"

The crowd went quiet and I reassessed the girl.

Dark eyes, hair pulled back in a limp pony-tail, small and squat with unattractively wide hips. You could tell from her face that she was fierce, direct. Matthew had never paid any attention to her, so I knew nothing about this girl.

"I wasn't the one who killed Matthew Ransley."

"Yeah, Lorna. Don't be rude." The red-haired girl chastised. Lorna didn't take her eyes off me.

"We humans still eat meat, and even if we didn't personally kill those animals they were butchered for us, regardless. We digested their bodies, we used them up, which is why they were killed in the first place. Souls don't like violence, so do you feel bad about Matthew?"

There was something deeply unsettling about this girl. Her eyes were flat, like discs, no depth or warmth. I tried to smile and my mouth became a hard line.

"I'm a Soul, but I'm also just a teen, like all of you. I can't speak for my government any more than you all can, but I do believe in it. And I do believe that an insertion was necessary for Matt."

I think the casual mentioning of his name annoyed Lorna. But I called him Matt because he was familiar, I was literally with him all the time. I knew him better than her, Jenny, all of them had. Her eyebrows quirked and even though her smile didn't waver I saw those eyes darken a shade. A hyena-stare. Thankfully she was quiet for long enough that someone else jumped in with another question. I turned away from Lorna and she didn't bother me again.

When the bell for roll call sounded everyone was there on time, which wasn't usual. These children were more well-behaved and sensible than the others, they were kind enough to not swarm me but I still had two or three well-wishers engaging me at all times. Mr Stephens, the balding role teacher greeted me the same way everyone here had. A polite, chirpy _Good morning, White_ , while twisting the key and opening the door.

"Good morning, White!"

"Good morning, White."

"Morning, White!" And I realised it was that Lorna girl mocking the cheeriness of the other greeters.

I glanced at her while heading into the square room, then I looked at the dark-haired boy standing beside her. His eyes were a little wide and he looked afraid. I remembered him from yesterday, in a few of my classes but not approaching me. I gave him a smile and I watched his skin go red then white and then red again, violently rapid colour changes. My first thought was that he'd been another victim of Matthew's but when I scanned the host's memories I couldn't even come up with a name.

Only a single memory: Matt looking up from where he sat during a library detention two years ago, contemplated walking out, noticed that this boy had been watching him closely. Matt's expression immediately flickered to livid. The boy looked frightened, like he had just before, and turned away. Matt faced away afterwards with a mean pang of satisfaction, feeling tough. He hadn't registered the way that boy's tan skin had blushed all over, but looking back White Fierce did.

 _Curious_.

Mr Stephens was a little annoying. He kept talking about how he wanted me to prepare different educational talks of interest to the rest of the class – he looked genuinely intrigued as he said this but I knew not everyone in the class would want that. Most of them, but not all of them. I spent my whole breaks and most of my lessons indulging the interest of others. I didn't want to prepare _speeches_ as well. I tried to come off as un-enthused, but if he kept pushing the point like he was doing I'd have to internally repress a sigh, then resort to another flat-out 'no'.

Most humans seemed to need flat-out 'no's.

General Maths was first period, and despite myself I was smiling as I walked up to Ms Hubscher's desk to deliver my homework. Matthew had never done homework, so I was grinning at the irony. The woman with the tight hair-bun looked up at me, the chain on her spectacles swaying delicately.

"Oh. Thank you, White." She was a strict teacher that didn't put up with nonsense or chatter in her classroom so I appreciated her for that. "I usually collect homework at the end of the lesson." She added while turning my papers to face her. Neither me nor Matt had known how homework was collected. Then she surprised me by barking a laugh, a quick burst before stopping herself.

"What is it?"

"Most of these are all wrong."

"Oh…" I deflated.

"You've shown initiative, and you've applied yourself. You've tried, I can see that White. But you don't know what you're doing." Her eyes twinkled at me. Perhaps she'd expected me to be a genius, like my art teacher had, just because I was part-alien.

"I'll read over the chapters we're studying for this unit. Sorry again."

"Matthew Ransley made it to maybe three of my classes and I had to toss him out of each one, so I understand if you need help. Maybe get one of the other students to tutor you at lunches and I'll arrange extra credit, if you like."

In my peripheral I could see people straightening up at their desks and thought immediately: _no_. They would loooove to have me all to themselves. They'd ask me all the questions they'd been mentally saving for me, the ones they'd been waiting to lob like darts as soon as they got their turn in the playground. But they wouldn't have any patience with me. They'd explain the questions once and then when I didn't get it they'd frown at me in surprise like the teachers and say: _really_? And then they'd realise what they signed up for, that they were actually there to help me instead of vice-versa and then soon they'd lose interest and want to leave.

"Thanks but no thanks. I'll read the textbook tonight and make sure the questions are okay before I show them to you."

Ms Hubscher nodded and I went back to my desk. In truth I'd been so flabbergasted and disheartened and distracted that I hadn't even bothered to mark my homework, yesterday had been a draining first day. The nervous blushing boy was in this class and he didn't look at me. I wanted to find out his name when Ms Hubscher called the roll but I must have missed him. I wanted to make right with everyone Matthew had offended, but like with Jenny I decided I should talk to this other boy when every single movement I made wasn't being monitored by those close-by. An audience came with all of my interactions, making them impersonal and weird.

Second period was a free so I went to the library. My first reaction to the wide brick building with the glass front was to be daunted. The library had always made Matt feel stupid. Rows and rows of books with cramped and tiny words (he wasn't a very good reader). I let the emotion come and go, only watching the reaction with mild interest. Back when he'd been himself Matt didn't even look in the direction of this building if he could help it, that's how bad it made him feel. I walked up the stone steps and into the building, past the thievery detectors.

Mrs Donahue, the quiet and somewhat vacant librarian turned around and then jumped a little when she saw me. Her eyes went hard, a scowl from beneath her frizz of straw-coloured hair.

"What are you doing here?" She immediately snapped and I realised her mistake.

"Mrs Donahue," I began in a quiet measured tone. "My name's White Fierce, it's nice to meet you." I extended my arm and she looked at me like I'd spoken another language. With a shake of her head she finally realised.

"Oh! Oh… White Fierce." She enunciated. "Yes, of course." She breathed a sigh of relief. "Of course, I'm so sorry." She studied me suspiciously again before finally shaking my hand, soft and barely touching me. "Sorry dear," she kept saying. "I'd banned you from the library after the toilet paper and fire crackers… of course that wasn't you though dear." Her expressions kept visibly changing from distrust to apology to dislike to kind. I watched her soften and harden again as if I was shifting back and forth to Matt before her very eyes. Finally she shook her head again and I saw her restrain her emotions. "How can I help you?"

"I'm on my study break now, so I'm just going to find a table and read through my textbook." I assured her softly. She actually shook her head again like she didn't believe me. Like she was looking at Matthew's lips move while someone else's voice was speaking.

"Okay dear," she said dreamily. "Come to the front desk if you need help with anything." And she wandered off, trance-like.

I would not be able to read or do homework in the downstairs area. The tables were in a wide blue-carpet clearing by the computers and there were about three dozen students all shuffling around. I would be bombarded with polite little taps on the shoulder, even with _I'm-busy_ body language and then one thing would lead to another and I'd be in another question-and-answer crowd-circle. The librarian might notice and she'd be no help at all, would probably join in. Upstairs however there were separate little cubicle rooms, each with a single desk with chairs. They looked like board-meeting rooms, private spaces for student group projects. I could go in one of them and read.

I began to traipse up the stairs, looking behind me to quickly check that no one was watching. There were about maybe seven students – boys and girls – that had decided they were my 'friends'. Whenever I was in the middle of a group they'd all be there, the regulars, and they'd wiggle through to stand beside me, almost possessively. They gave grand waves whenever they saw me across the playground and immediately came over, as if it'd been discussed that they were my _very good friends_. Like they had some special claim to me because they talked a lot and I'd smiled and not told them to go away. It was weird and superficial, they made me uncomfortable.

Once up the stairs I traced the handrail that overlooked the bottom floor, moving to the nearest door and peeking inside. Empty, light streamed in from the frosted glass windows. I closed the door behind me and could finally relax. Sighing I went to sit down, unslung my bag and fished around for that textbook. I tried to read it but couldn't follow. Maybe Matthew had been an undiagnosed dyslexic? The terms flew over my head, I might need a tutor after all…

The door opened a crack and Jenny slipped in, closing it softly behind her. I blinked in surprise, I didn't think she'd be the one to approach me. Her eyes looked wet beneath her dark fringe but her expression was stern. Jenny was usually non-confrontational, soft-spoken, except when…

"Why'd you never call me, huh? Why'd you not try to reach me? You said you loved me, but you're a selfish shit!"

"Jenny." I quickly stood up, tried to get through to her. "I'm not Matthew. My name is White Fierce."

"You didn't even try to get out. Not for me. Do you even care?" She stepped closer, haunches raised.

"Jenny." I said slowly. "My name is White Fierce."

It was like her brain was stuck in a one-track tunnel. She was only going to hear whatever it was her brain wanted her to hear. I was trying to coax her to the surface of reality. She'd been expecting and craving me to yell back at her. To call her a bitch so we could have a proper fight, and then apologize to each other afterward, and then she was going to ask for money after letting Matt have sex with her. Their relationship had been so juvenile. She was the kind of girl who talks about how fucked up her life is while simultaneously picking fights with everyone close so she could complain some more about how fucked up her life is. I wasn't following the script so she looked at me a little weirdly, Matt had never been level with her, hadn't considered her an equal. He always talked down to her and it was fuel for the screams and scratching.

She took another step forward and I moved back. I was a little scared, but I also felt like I knew Jenny from the memories I had with her. I knew her well enough. _Don't panic, I can control this._

"They brainwashed you." She tilted her head, watery eyes curious. "The aliens got you and brainwashed you didn't they?" She was speaking softly, matching my own volume.

"Jenny, my name is White Fierce. I want to help you."

"I want you to help me too." She stood up to me then and touched my penis. Her scent, raspberry body wash and strawberry shampoo, flooded my nostrils and my body reacted to her from muscle memory. I remembered what it was like to have sex with Jenny. I could go through the motions right now and it would be so easy, she was so familiar to me. "I'm scared baby, touch me… please…" her mouth was tracing my neck and chin and I shuddered in pleasure. She was a withered skinny, those small breasts pressing into my body and I knew how they felt in Matt's rough, grabby palms.

I was rooted to the spot, the warmth coming from my crotch felt just as good as when I'd done it all night alone in the dark. Not with the light on, or with another person.

"Jenny…" I wanted to tell her to stop, but it just sounded like I was begging.

Her arms twisted around me like vines, rooting me to the spot. She was still touching me through my pants, stroking my dick through the fabric and I was so crazy hard. My brain was fogged. I was too underdeveloped for a soul and the temptation was too strong. Her warm, moist opening would be like a release, clinging to me so tightly. I wanted that, to fill her, but still felt immobile and terrified. When I didn't push her away Jenny got me over to the table and forced me down, first so I was sitting and then so I was lying flat and she was on top of me. I lay beneath her, panting, pupils blown-up from fear and she hooked her thin fingers into my pants and briefs, tugging them both down my waist.

"You got something for me baby? In that bag, you got something? I'm going crazy, I need a hit now so bad."

I snapped to when her hand clasped my dick, so hard and throbbing that it was leaking droplets of a white fluid. _Semen. Cum._ Surprisingly it was Matt that always remembered to wear protection. He was secretly scared that Jenny wanted a baby, would use the financial support for her addiction. Matt didn't want to be tied down to her in any legal sense. For once I think Matt was right about something. Jenny probably did want a baby, secretly, it would be another way for her to milk the system and complain about how fucked up her life is. She grinded her hips against the shaft of my dick and I felt like I was going to explode, ejaculate right there and then. I leaned my head back into the table and blinked at the ceiling, desperately willing for control and restraint.

Her exposed vagina was too close to my unprotected erection. All of a sudden I regained control at the snap of imaginary fingers.

"Jenny stop!" I pushed her off in desperation, shocking myself. She fell off me, stumbled back and landed on the ground.

I sat up, awkwardly tugging at my briefs and bottoms. The girl burst into furious tears, lunging back onto her feet.

"Fuck you, Matt! Fuck. You!" And she slapped me hard, curling her fingers so a nail drew a red line across my face. I felt absolutely terrified by the display, the pain, at how easily she'd managed to handle this body whose reactions I couldn't control, at how easily she'd resorted to senseless violence. But still weeping she flung the door open wide and ran away.

* * *

 **AN: Thanks so much to viaRose for reviewing! I thought this story was done for, that I'd never update it again, and then with delight I noticed it had an extra review. If there are people reading this story then please review. This story currently has six chapters but only two reviews, and I only update when I'm receiving feedback. Thanks again!**


	7. of HUMANITY'S RETRIBUTION

。

\- 。O 。O 。O 。- **the SOUL** \- 。 O 。O 。O 。 -

* * *

\- O - **Chapter 7** \- O -

。 **Peter Purcell** 。

* * *

At the end of the week I could tell that White's novelty was fading. He could finally get up from the outdoor eating area and walk to the drinking fountains without taking a crowd with him. There were always a few tagalongs – the devotees who were politically inclined far into the pro-Soul side. His small group of friend-admirers. Kids who were involved with the healthy choices menu at the canteen and who were in the debate club.

I was sitting in Biology class hunched over and squeezing my knuckles, staring forward at the bricks with narrowed eyes. The group who sat at this table were talking amongst themselves and ignoring me because I was too deep in my thoughts. When White walked into the classroom my eyes narrowed further and my hands got sweaty. Smiling like that, fully in the face was devastating. It was like literally staring at the sun. I dipped my head and he went to sit at the next table, the closest chair to mine. They continued their conversation while I stared down, all too aware that he was only a few feet away. I could feel the heat force on that side of my body, as if he truly were a sun.

"You got any plans for the weekend? For tonight?"

"Homework and television. I sorely need some revision time."

I found myself listening intently to his voice, the tone I wasn't used to. From the corner of my vision I could see him lounging back comfortably, his elbow resting on the back of his chair. The one thing that'd always been apparent to me was how useless my feelings for him truly were. How stupid it was to love someone you didn't even talk to and with this much intensity. Because even if Mathew had always been the way he is now I couldn't date him. Even as a nice and sociable guy. I couldn't imagine us together, on a date.

Imagine liking someone so much that you could never be near them.

Our merrily fat teacher was penning down the composition of a cell on the whiteboard, her woolly blonde hair facing us. Conversation had mostly died down as the lesson dragged on and everyone was scribbling their own diagrams while stewing in their Friday afternoon eagerness. The fans overhead were squeaking and jiggling to combat the summer heat. Predictably I was having a hard time concentrating, battling an internal mix of excitement and anxiety. I hated it.

"Excuse me, ah, Peter is it?" It was his voice. I instantly stiffened. My face went blank and I turned my head to him. "Do you have a pen I could borrow? Mine's run out of ink."

He looked passive and polite. An 'I hate to trouble you' expression on his face. Some of his desk-mates peeked up at us. White hadn't asked any of them for another pen – he'd whispered to me to test the waters. He must be curious about me, I was the only student in his classes who'd said absolutely nothing to him this week.

Something changed inside of me then. I was looking at him full on and he was looking right back, for the first time in years. And this was the first time he'd looked kind. I kept constantly comparing him to the idea of an alternate-universe Mathew. A Matt who grew up under different circumstances and made better choices. It didn't excuse all he'd done, but I knew his home-life was terrible and it was that understanding of darkness that helped make him so appealing to me. At that moment I could see every flaw in his face. Instead of focusing on his beauty my brain was absorbing everything wrong and unique – and even that looked perfect to me. That more than anything else made me realise my situation was hopeless.

But the glowing silver band around his iris allowed me to separate the real Mathew from this fake one.

"Sure." I dug around my leather pencil-case and held out one of my many blue pens.

"Thanks." He reached out and took it, and when our hands touched I quickly let go.

Returning my attention to my work I started appropriately labelling the parts of the cell I'd drawn. I could feel White's gaze on me, his interest still piqued. He wanted to say something more.

"Your diagram looks really good, I wish I could draw that well."

"Thanks." I eyed the open book in front of him instead of looking into his face again. His plant cell was nothing special and he'd drawn it too big. He'd also labelled the cell wall and mitochondria wrong.

"You do Visual Art as well, right?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe you could help me with our project? Give me some tips?"

I raised my eyes to look at him again. Lorna told me that I would have to gain his trust because she couldn't. Normally I'd think that was a job only she could do given my feelings. But I knew Lorna wasn't good at being charming. She wasn't designed for it. She could get certain people to like her for being confident and herself but it was my job to talk to White. I'd been putting it off. Even so, I could tell I had his attention by ignoring him. I could feel him glancing my way in classes sometimes, the only one who'd avoided him outright. Even the distrustful kids had shared a word or two, exchanged small talk and relaxed a bit. Because White initiated it; those kids hadn't been hiding their avoidance behind a quietly aggressive front.

As far as Lorna knew I'd been getting to know him. It was the end of the week and I needed to do my part of the job.

"Maybe…"

"Cool. We've got Visual Art last period, don't we?"

I only nodded and he stopped talking. Finally let me be. I was clenching my pen too tightly but I felt reasonably calm. This is what I want. It's too hard on my emotions to have him so close all the time. White needs to be taken out, I need him to stay away from me.

When the bell rang I packed up slowly, made sure from the corner of my eye that White left with his friends and wasn't about to say more to me. I was one of the last students out the door. I looked back at Ms Rigby wiping her cell off the whiteboard, then looked at the groups of teens chatting as they went down the corridor. I peered on before whipping down the other way.

My android buzzed, a message from Lorna: _its happening now_.

 _ok_ , I messaged back. Phone back in my pocket as I quickly descended the stairs.

I watched White sitting in the shade amongst a group of a dozen students talking and eating. He looked visibly tense to me, fake. I was leaning against B block, studying him coldly. Nobody seemed to be paying me any attention as I stood still for the first fifteen minutes of lunch. They were all going by, involved in their own little worlds. White stood up suddenly and a few others went to get up but he raised his hand. They paused while hunched forward, arms bent. He left them and headed to the toilet alone. Once he was by himself I saw the group he left behind go quiet, looking at the ground or their phones or itching an arm. White seemed to relax when on his own, walking to the toilet despondently. I waited where I was, head sticking out around the corner, and still had no idea how I was supposed to do this. I was telling myself I had to approach him, I had to talk to him. Was gearing myself up when after a few minutes White stepped out and stopped.

He was looking the other way toward the miniature forest of trees on the other side of the sports oval. Looking intently at something I couldn't see. He glanced back at his sitting group, noticed they hadn't seen him yet, and then he headed off. I blinked, confused. Then quickly headed out after him, shooting another text to Lorna as I jogged. I passed a line of kids at the canteen and approached the other corner of the block carefully. Peering around I spied White's broad back as he headed into the coverage of trees. _What is he doing?_ I waited a few seconds and then ran across the field after him. Down the other end the school's soccer team were playing a game under the hot sun, my brother Rick among them. A pair of girls were sitting and watching the team, licking one-dollar lemonade ice-blocks. I couldn't see White. I trudged into the trees carefully.

These were all Australian trees. Eucalyptus and red bottle-brushes. Paperbarks that shed all over the dirt between the trees where new grass hadn't been rolled out and watered two years prior. Dry sticks and leaves crunched under my feet as I stepped through the shade. Spindly bushes with spiky leaves. I heard a rustle and stopped, my heart beating fast.

I crept toward the sound trying to make out more noise. A conversation? Something. My eyes scanned the flora, quiet except for the occasional chirp of birds and the hum of distant cicadas. I stepped over an ant hill.

"J- oh." White appeared from behind a tree, surprised to see me. He froze and didn't know what to say. I was in a similar state, racking my brain for something.

"You didn't return my pen." I blurted.

"What?"

"From Biology. Ah… you didn't give me back the pen I lent you."

"Oh…" He went quiet. There was a heavy cloud of awkwardness and suspicion hanging in the air. I swallowed, my hands and pits were sweating now. "Um, I don't have my backpack here. Your pen must be in my pencil-case." Through a gap in the trees I saw a van pulling up in the staff parking lot. My feet bolted into the earth. A moment passed and then my eyes narrowed. White tried being friendly "Let's go, I'll get it for you and maybe you can give me advice on the art project too?" He took a step back toward the school.

"Wait!" I hesitated. He stared at me.

"What?" From behind him the back door of the van opened. Twenty or so feet away.

"Can we talk here?"

"Here? Why?"

"Cause…" I wracked my brain. I needed something. "I want an honest talk. Not out there where people can hear or where your friends will interrupt us."

"Okay." He looked understanding, resolved by something. Maybe the mystery of me.

"Out there you got to say the right thing. In here you just tell me the truth, right?"

"Alright." He looked away and smirked at something, I scowled.

"What?"

"Nothing… it's just… you're absolutely right. This situation is really hard for me. I don't want to be alone, but I'd prefer it to those guys. I feel like I constantly have to watch myself because… humans have a tendency of admitting they're not perfect, right? Well Souls aren't perfect either. We often say we're a lot better off because we had a different evolutionary history and lived many lives and as different species, so we've got a broader outlook on what life is. But I'm not an old Soul. This isn't my first life, but my second. So I don't completely fit in with the other Souls here either. There's a gap in maturity and therefore understanding. The human part of me, Matthew's part, wants an honest connection with someone. People are too scared of me to be themselves and they're put-off cause I'm different. So I guess that's why I feel more alone in this place with that crowd."

I was surprised. I didn't expect him to drop the act he'd kept up with the other students. There weren't many Souls around here but the humans were divided. Leftists who promoted Soul politics and then everyone else: mostly comprised of people who choose not to comment much, they could concede a grunt of approval to our alien overlords but weren't thrilled to do their bidding. Then a slim margin of those were strongly against the Souls but kept it to themselves because of the ostracization and other consequences that would occur.

White reminded me of one of the disenchanted group, just going along with it because they had no choice.

"You want a friend?"

"Yes." He looked surprised. I saw a shape that could be Lorna entering the trees up ahead.

"If you don't want to be fake then why are you?"

"It's not about being fake." He frowned. "It's my duty to present Souls in a certain way."

"In a way that doesn't sit right with you, because you feel uncomfortable."

"I feel… look it's not about that. I know what my species are. I believe in the Souls." His human side looked less obvious, the silver in his eyes seemed brighter. I glanced over his shoulder at the van again and he noticed. Turned around. Began to sense an ill wind, I could feel his unease.

"I think we should have this talk up in the school." He stepped away.

"I'm not finished!"

"I'd feel more comfortable in the open…"

"I loved you!" I blurted to keep him here. It worked, he faltered. "Did you know that? I loved Mathew. You have his memories and personality in there, somewhere right?" Souls had provided some information about insertions to the populace of Earth. I gave him a grin of dark satisfaction. "I can never forgive you for what you've done. Even if you didn't sentence Mathew you let yourself be used for an insertion of someone. You had a part to play."

We were silent for a moment. The seconds dragged by and he just stared at me. I felt dark and determined.

Lorna appeared from behind a tree and jogged, stepping deftly around the fallen branches and shrubbery. In one hand she was holding what looked like a baton. As she got closer and White noticed her I realised it was a pronged taser. _She brought a taser?_ I'd known she got weird stuff online from shady connections. I watched on, astonished. Lorna's expression didn't change as she jabbed the startled boy in the chest. A loud series of clicks and his limbs bent, violent spasms before he dropped straight down. The squat girl tilted her head at the downed guy, his leg was bent in an uncomfortable way. I stared.

A man trudged out to us urgently from where Lorna had come from. He had long hair and a beard, sunken eyes and wearing a trench coat.

"Come on, let's get him in the truck."

"Holy shit."

"Peter, it's Peter right?" His harsh tone tried to snap me back to life. "Souls out in the field are equipped with an emergency transmitter that will send a tracking signal in emergencies like these. We need to get him out of here, now."

"Peter grab his legs." Lorna had put the weapon in her back pocket and hooked her arms under his pits with a professional efficiency. White's head lolled back.

"Okay." I forced myself to get in gear, feeling numb.

I went over and crouched down, hooking my arms around his legs and helped lift him, struggling back with Lorna to carry him between the trees to the van. The other man took long strides back to the parking lot. I felt heightened, the adrenaline coursing from what we were doing. Lorna was grimacing as we got White around the trees and to the van, engine rumbling. Had anyone seen us? We needed to get out of here and fast. I let White's legs flop and then stood beside Lorna to help lift and slide him in. Lorna leaned over to swing shut the back doors, immediately the vehicle lurched and swung out onto the road.

My back slammed into the side and I looked down at White.

"Holy shit! He's foaming at the mouth!" White was shaking, his muscles tense and a foamy substance was leaking down his face. "Lorna! He's having a seizure!"

My friend pulled out the huge wand and fumbled for a switch, she deactivated it and set it down.

"Did you modify that? Lorna!"

"We don't have time for this, Peter." She reached back without concern and retrieved what looked like a walkie-talkie with a screen. While White was twitching she fired up the device and started waving it around his head. It was beeping like a radar. She started moving it over his body, searching for something.

"That was not a normal taser, Lorna!" I felt furious.

"Hey, Peter!" Called the driver, spinning the wheel and us around the corner. "Let her do it. If we don't do this we all go to prison and then we're just like that kid there. Fucked."

"Capturing him means nothing if he's _dead_!" I shouted back, mentally freaking out. I reached out and pulled White onto his side, bending his arm and positioning it. "Lorna, I need you to hold his head still. Lorna!"

She had his left arm extended, still ignoring my terror. That scanner was beeping by his shoulder.

"I found it, Bruce!"

"Good." He called back, turning the wheel and guiding us down another side street.

Lorna pinched White's arm and I could see a small rectangle beneath his skin. She held it there and reached back with her free hand for an old tool-box. She unhooked the latch and dug around tweezers and other gadgets. I saw the glint of a scalpel.

"Lorna!" I shouted full at her face now, she was completely unaffected. "What the _fuck_ are you doing?"

"Peter." She looked at me now, calm and unmoved. "Do you want to go to prison?" I couldn't speak. "Then let me do this."

She went back to it and I sagged, the fight left me. It was hopeless. My eyes glistened with my exasperation. She cut into his arm, wiggled the wound open. I could barely watch, just kept supporting White's head while he shook, face turning blue. With no hesitation she opened the wound further while he bled onto her hands. The metal of the tracker was visible now, a rectangle two inches wide. Surely she wasn't going to rip it out of him? She dropped the scalpel amongst the rusty tools and picked up what looked like one of those clicky lighters with the long nozzle. She took a second to aim, pressing the end against the flat metal. Thumbed a button and there was a loud spark.

"Alright it's done."

"The thing's dead?" He called back.

"Fried. I'm sure of it."

"Check for any more, just to be safe." Our driver instructed while jerking the gear stick. Lorna shuffled over to White's legs, charging up that scanner again.

"It's Bruce, right?" I leaned back, feeling faint. "You're a member of the Anti-Soul Movement?"

"I'm affiliated with the ASM." He reminded me of a druggie conspiracy nut, but was handling this just as seriously as Lorna. In his case I could sense some concern about getting caught, however. It was what was driving his urgency. With Lorna, nothing.

"This boy is dying. We might get away with the kidnapping but not with murder." He didn't say anything, I could see his deep frown in the reflection of the rear-view mirror. "Did you guys seriously not plan for this?"

"He's clear." Lorna said, still ignoring me.

"Fine!" I snapped at her. "Help me sit him up and I'm gonna make sure he's still breathing!"

I spent the next fifteen minutes tending to White, who'd stopped shaking and who's colour was returning to normal. The seizure had passed and I still didn't know what damage to his brain would be permanent. I wasn't a medical expert, all I knew was that seizures usually passed if you waited them out and kept the victim from choking to death. White's breathing was short and laboured. I checked his pulse by pressing two fingers into his wrist and it thumped along at a regular pace, jumping out of his skin and into my fingers. I used some old cloth to bandage the wound on his arm which was partially burned by whatever machine Lorna had used to fry the microchip. It would still need to be sterilised. Lorna sat casually against the back of Bruce's chair while he drove us into the old junk yard by the edge of Awaba.

We rumbled along the dirt track, weaving beside mountainous piles of junk. We drove further in until reaching a clearing. Bruce stopped the van and pulled up the handbrake with a tug, turning the keys and hopping out the door. I waited, heart pounding. His footsteps went around and he opened the back, light spilling in. Lorna crawled past me and over White's legs to get out. I nervously followed. Lorna was stretching while Bruce waved me over, stepping between bags of junk to something covered in tarp.

"Now listen Peter, I'd love to answer your questions but we don't have time. We need to get that boy out and into here." It was another car, a cheap blue economy. He blew the dust off the hood. "Hey, Lorna. Here." The back door opened with a squeak, he pulled out rope and a roll of masking tape, throwing it in her direction. "He needs to be tied up before we go any further."

"This… is crazy." I panted.

"You promised to help, don't wuss out on me now." Lorna declared, turning back to the van and our hostage.

"Where are we taking him?"

"To a safe place, away from here." Bruce was swiping off garbage bags he'd piled on top of the car. "A few towns over. They won't be able to find him."

"Are there any others waiting there?"

"No."

"So you're not working with other people in the ASM?"

"Look, kid." He stopped what he was doing to stare at me, keys in hand. "We aren't an organized movement. We can't be. Anyone who gets inserted or drugged will give everyone else away. We're an idea. We got to work solo. But after we report in with proof that we got him" he pointed to the van "We'll get contacted by specialists who'll take him in and study him, it'll be the first step in winning this war."

I shook my head at the scraggly man, mouth hanging open.

"There is no war! We can't beat them!"

"One day…" Is all he said to me, opening the driver's door and getting in. Dismissing me again.

I looked back to Lorna who'd tied White's arms and legs together, put a long strip of masking tape over his mouth. I walked over and the car engine behind me fired up and stalled. Fired up again and Bruce drove out of the garbage it'd been buried under, crap spilling out. I stared out across the hills of junk, old machine parts and piles of rubbish atop the flat expanse of dirt. Then I looked back to Lorna in the van.

"This operation is just you, me and some guy you found on the internet?"

"He's an expert."

"I don't think you're a very good judge of character."

"He is."

"He's some crackpot hermit that owns a holding crate somewhere out in the country." I whispered.

"Help me with him." Lorna grabbed White's shoulders and started to manoeuvre him out.

"Fuck." I couldn't look him in the face but I helped get him out and drag him away. Bruce wiped more grime off the boot before popping it open for us.

"Will he be able to breathe in there?"

"Stop your whining." Bruce looked at Lorna while we heaved him in. "We need to burn the van." On the ground by his feet I saw big gallon containers of petrol.

"We can't."

"If the Souls find this vehicle we'll be fucked, Lorna. They have the technology to match skin cells to our DNA. I am _not_ getting done for this, I can't be on their radar."

"If we burn it it'll still get identified. My sister's boyfriend will admit he lent me the van and we'll get busted anyway. Give me the keys and I'll drive off with it, get it lost somewhere so no one will find it. I'll say it got stolen or something."

They stared each other down for a moment. The hunched man reached over and slammed the boot.

"Fine. C'mon, get in. We need to hit the road. By now the authorities will already know what's happened."

* * *

 **AN: I'm extremely grateful to TheBatmato for reviewing all of my chapters! I was surprised and very happy! I'm so glad you enjoy my story. I feel like if someone is enjoying a story that doesn't have many reviews they should give feedback. In my case I wasn't very interested in continuing this story if no one was going to comment on it. I love your reviews! This chapter wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, so thanks. I hope you enjoy the plot momentum here.**


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